


No, I Regret Nothing

by MostPreciousTreasures



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur & Ariadne Friendship, Depression, Dreamscapes, Dreamsharing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Male-Female Friendship, Medium Burn, Older Man/Younger Woman, Strangers to Lovers, Therapy, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26490097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostPreciousTreasures/pseuds/MostPreciousTreasures
Summary: She looked at him properly then - he sounded so sincere. More than anyone, she wanted him to understand the beauty of it. Probably because of what they had done to him, and the residual guilt she felt. “It is incredible. It’s more than most people can imagine - but it shouldn’t be. It’s like VR, but better - because you can create the world. You think it and it becomes real.”
Relationships: Ariadne & Arthur (Inception), Ariadne/Robert Fischer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	No, I Regret Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from ["Non, je ne regrette rien"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3Kvu6Kgp88)

“Oh thanks Ariadne - owe you heaps!”

Ariadne smiled as she handed her friend coffee in a paper cup. “You can just get the snacks next time, Joelle.”

“Yes, yes, yes, but where is my croissant hm?,” asked Clara as she lent across Joelle to inspect the contents of Ariadne’s tote bag. “Ah, here it is! _Magnifique_. Did you get something for yourself?”

“Just a little muffin thing.”

“A little muffin! So cute - oh you are _our_ Little Muffin, Ariadne!,” cried Clara as she grabbed Ariadne’s face for an exaggerated kiss while jostling Joelle in the process.

“Oi!,” cried Joelle, attempting to steady the flimsy lid on her coffee, “Quit fooling around or I’ll spill my coffee over the lot of you!”

Ariadne laughed at her friends as she wiped Clara’s lipstick from her cheek. “Who’s giving the talk tonight?,” she asked, looking around at the crowded auditorium humming with chatter.

Joelle gave her a weary look. “Don’t be daft, it’s Robert Fischer.”

Ariadne’s stomach dropped, all thoughts of eating warm pastry and having a fun night with her friends evaporated instantly. Subtly, Ariadne reached for the bishop she always kept in the right pocket of her pants. _Robert Fischer_.

“You didn’t look at the schedule?,” prompted Joelle.

Ariadne blinked. “No, I forgot. Why is Robert Fischer here?”

“He wrote a book about his relationship with his dad and splitting up Fischer Morrow,” said Clara as she pulled apart her croissant.

“Really?”

“Yeah it’s been all over the top books lists for the whole year - I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it,” said Joelle, “I think he might also be teaching here this year?”

This was all too much information for Ariadne to take in at one time. She was about to declare a fake migraine and flee from the room, when the lights over the audience lowered and Robert Fischer walked out with the professor who was moderating the talk.

“He’s quite fit isn’t he?,” said Joelle.

The last time Ariadne had seen Robert Fischer, he wore custom-made Armani suits and silk suspenders. Just under two years later, he looked like he could have been an almost different man. His hair was a little longer and he now wore gold-toned metal glasses. He was dressed in black jeans and a corduroy shirt worn over a white t-shirt. He didn’t look sloppy, but his softer clothes and more relaxed posture projected a far different image from the ruthless businessman he had tried to be before.

“Have you listened to his podcast?,” whispered Joelle to Clara, “His voice is so sexy - I may just get wet right here.”

“Thank you all so much for coming this evening. My name is Professor Okada and I am the chair of the Business School. It’s the start of the year here at University of Westminster and we have many more amazing talks and panels with staff and graduate students lined up for the rest of this week and into the next - make sure to check the website so you don’t miss anything. Our guest this evening has caused quite a stir in the business world over the past year and a half. His new memoir, _Disappointed_ , has been lauded for its simplicity and intensity of feeling and hailed by The New York Times as ‘the 21st-century answer to Peter Reich’s _A Book of Dreams_.’ He is also the new visiting lecturer at the University of Westminster Business School. Please give a warm welcome to Robert Fischer.”

Fischer read from his book for the first fifteen minutes of the talk, his voice clear and strong - though Ariadne noted a fine tremor in one of his hands when he took a sip of water. Afterwards he and Professor Okada engaged in a 30 minute discussion and then a Q&A was opened up to the audience for the final 15 minutes. It turned out that, in addition to the memoir, Fischer had collaborated with New York Times journalists on a series of exposé articles about shady dealings at Fischer Morrow as well as a podcast called _Energy Barons_. How had Ariadne missed all of this?

The Q&A was fairly benign and featured questions about the ethics of what he had done or his relationship with his father, the last of which he was careful to maneuver around in his answers. Towards the end of the hour, a boy asked, “How do you consider yourself qualified to teach business when you dismantled the company your father founded and ran for over 30 years?”

The former heir to the most powerful energy company in the world was silent for a moment, and everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Finally he said, “Maybe I’m not. It’s a question I ask myself all the time. But I’ll let you be the judge of that - if I’m lucky enough to have you in class.” He smiled then and the room laughed, but Ariadne could tell that the question had thrown him. 

“Are there any other questions?,” asked Professor Okada.

“Awful,” Ariadne muttered to her friends, “Why even do a Q&A? That guy was just showing off and nobody has actually asked Fischer what he intends to do now that his father’s company is gone and he’s exposed it for what it was.”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?,” replied Clara.

“What? Clara _no_ -,” Ariadne whispered furiously, but it was too late. Clara was furiously waving over one of the event coordinators.

“Um,” said Ariadne as a microphone was thrust in her face, “I, uh, firstly I wanted to say that I disagree with the last question. I think breaking down an entire business empire makes you perfectly qualified.” There were some faint chuckles at this. “But my question is - What do you want your students to take away from what you have done?”

She froze the moment Robert Fischer’s piercing blue eyes landed on her. He looked at her for such a long moment that she was positive he recognized her. Then he slowly smiled.

“Thank you for that - that’s very generous of you to say. And you pose an interesting question: what do I want my students to take away from what I have done? I want them to know that you don’t always have to accept things that are given to you and not question the status quo. We should all be looking in the horse’s mouth far more than we’d like to.” His eyes lingered on her when he was done speaking and she was relieved when Professor Okada brought the evening to a close and the audience applauded.

In the lobby, Clara and Joelle went to the bathroom while Ariadne stood at the coat check to wait for their things. She had just begun to frantically Google different combinations of _Robert Fischer University of Westminster_ , _Robert Fischer London_ , and _Robert Fischer business school_ when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turned around, only to be met once again with the striking gaze of Robert Fischer himself.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said with a soft smile, “But I wanted to ask - have we met before?”

She forced herself to shrug casually. “I don’t think so - you must be confusing me with someone else.”

He looked puzzled. “Are you sure? Have you ever worked for Fischer Morrow?”

“I, uh -,” Ariadne began before she was mercifully saved by her friends waving at her from the other side of the room.

“Little Muffin!,” called Clara in her joyful voice, “Get your cute little butt over here _tout de suite_. We are going to be late!”

“Sorry,” said Ariadne as she grabbed their coats from the counter and avoided Fischer’s eyes, “I have to go.”

She heard him ask, “What’s your name?,” as she started to walk away, but she didn’t turn around.

That night she called Arthur. She didn’t always have a consistent phone number for him, but occasionally she would get texts from different area codes like, “Miss seeing you in my dreams.” It was cheesy, but they made her smile. Arthur was really the only one from the Fischer job that she was still in contact with other than Cobb, who she saw about once or twice a year in Paris when he took James and Phillipa to see their grandpa. But she and Arthur had maintained a steady communication over text and the rare phone call. The initial mild flirtation of their early acquaintance had grown into a true friendship, and Ariadne was glad to still have a tie to the job that had changed her whole life. Recently she had gotten a text from an unknown iPhone number - a series of stupid memes followed by a simple, “This is Arthur.” His decision to commit to a traceable smartphone made Ariadne think that he was getting out of the illegal dream business and it made her happy that he would be in a safer line of work. It made her even happier that she would be able to reach him more easily after such a stressful night.

She got his voicemail. “It’s Arthur. You know what to do.”

“Arthur,” whispered Ariadne, even though she was alone, “Please call me as soon as you can. Something happened and I need to talk to you. It’s an emergency.”

He called her back less than a minute later. “What’s wrong?,” came his stern voice over the speaker and it made her want to cry from relief, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just - it’s about...Hamlet.” After the inception was completed and the team went their separate ways, Arthur and Ariadne had decided on a code word that they could use over phone or text if they ever needed to refer to the Fischer job.

There was a pause from Arthur’s end. “...Are you in a secure location?”

“I guess so - I have my own WiFi.”

“Okay good, that should be enough. Just...you know, be conservative with your choice of words.”

“Arthur…,” she sighed as she closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, “I saw Robert Fischer tonight.”

She began to talk - of going to an event with two other students in her Architecture doctoral program, of not knowing beforehand who the speaker would be. Arthur was quiet for most of her story, though she could just _feel_ him getting more and more anxious as she went on. But then she reached the part where Fischer found her in the lobby.

“ _What_.”

“I know Arthur, I know. I was going to a student mixer with my friends, so I just left. I played it off as casually as I could.”

“Jesus.”

“What should I do?”

“What should you _do_? Do nothing!,” cried Arthur.

“What if I run into him at the university again?”

He was silent.

“Arthur?”

“I’m thinking.”

Ariadne wanted to laugh. “Okay.”

After a time he murmured, “Just go on as normal. If you run into him again, be polite. As long as you’re not, I don’t know, seeking him out I don’t know what else to tell you. I guess just don’t do anything to draw his attention.”

“Alright.”

“It should be fine,” he soothed, “Subjects never remember jobs, I promise. But hey listen - I’ll be dropping by London at the end of the week. Can we meet? I’d love to see you.”

Ariadne smiled. “Of course.”

***

Ariadne entered a cramped cafe and wove her way around the mismatched tables and chairs, searching for Arthur. She finally spotted him tucked off into a side corner, but she quickly realized he wasn’t alone. Sat next to him was a young Black woman that Ariadne didn’t recognize. She felt her skin begin to goose bump in a way that had nothing to do with the cafe’s excessive air conditioning. Arthur wasn’t _dropping by London_ \- he was here for a job.

Ariadne approached them cautiously. “Eulalia Smith,” said the woman, extending her hand to Ariadne over the small cafe table, “But you can call me Lali - like the sweet.” She smiled beatifically when Ariadne took her hand. “And you must be Ariadne.”

“Yes,” replied Ariadne, shooting a look at Arthur, “I take it you don’t _actually_ want to catch up.”

He merely shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d say yes if I asked you to do another job over the phone.”

“You were right,” she said before turning to order a lavender latte and ginger scone from the waitress who came to their table.

“This is not a mark job,” said Arthur firmly.

“It’s not?,” she asked skeptically.

“Lali is a PhD student in Experimental Psychology at the University of Cambridge - just _listen_ to her and you’ll -”

“I can’t believe you would spring this on me after what I told -”

“Ariadne, we’re here about something big - we’re here about the future,” interrupted Lali, leaning towards her earnestly.

Ariadne paused, still glaring at Arthur. “What do you mean?”

“How much do you know about depression?”

Ariadne’s latte arrived and she took a sip. “Just what I’ve read in books and articles - I’ve never experienced it myself.”

“You’re lucky,” said Lali, “Depression is a relentless disease - it’s often described as a ‘black dog’ that follows you around. Sometimes the dog likes to go off on its own or sit calmly beside you, but other times it will bite your hand and bark all night.”

“Black dog - that’s from some Churchill letters right?”

Lali shared an appreciative glance with Arthur. “It is. Over the decades there have been countless remedies created to treat the blight of depression - therapies, oral medications, ketamine infusions. They all work to varying degrees of success, depending on the individual. But, I think there might be something to rival everything that has come before.”

Ariadne’s pulse quickened. Her lips parted slightly. “That’s not possible.”

Lali’s eyes twinkled. “No one thought dreamsharing was a possibility until it happened.”

Ariadne shook her head. “Memory erasure through dreams - it’s not _possible_. There’s nothing in the dreamscape that you could alter to change something really fundamental like that. Nothing chemical.”

“You’re right about that - but I’m not talking about erasure.” Lali pulled out a notebook and a pen. “Look here - we know that both extraction and inception are possible, yes? But what if one were to use the dreamspace to conduct talk therapy sessions? I believe that using dreams in this way could be the next big breakthrough in mental health technologies and treatments. The way I see it - therapeutic dreamsharing could have a more profound and lasting effect than other existing treatments. It would essentially be helping patients to rearrange their thought patterns - helping them to strengthen their positive memories and associations in order to counteract the bad.”

Ariadne watched as Lali drew a crude diagram representing extraction, inception, and a third option: “subsistence.” She felt a wave of deja vu as she remembered how Cobb had drawn a diagram on a napkin for her. She slipped a hand into her pocket to trace her fingertips over the metal ridges of her bishop. 

Arthur noticed her movement. “I believe in this, Ariadne.” His tone was low and there was a level of conviction Ariadne had never heard from him before. “I believe this could have a positive impact on people’s lives. I got a little spooked when you called me about Fischer the other day because...well because this is kind of about him.” He sat back in his chair and sighed. “After that job and watching what he did with his father’s company - I realized that dreamsharing could be more, _do_ more. It seems like he has a better life now - imagine what could be done if that was the ultimate goal and not just a side effect. When I met Lali and heard her theories, I knew this is what I needed to do.”

Ariadne let his words sink in. _A better life_. She took her totem fully out of her pocket and set it on the table before knocking it over. It landed with a hard thunk. Reality. She looked up at the two sitting in front of her. “I’m intrigued.”

Arthur smiled softly. “Good.”

“You say this is mainly a theory - what’s keeping you from attempting it?”

“Well that’s the hard part,” said Lali dryly, “Everything worth doing almost certainly requires money. And we can’t get investors until we have proof that this can actually work and is not just a pipe dream - pardon my choice of words. What we need first are lab rats.”

“People who are willing to do early trials,” clarified Arthur.

“Yes - and to do trials we need to have a whole development team. This is where you come in - I have the relevant knowledge and training to conduct the therapies, Arthur has the connections and the business sense to push us forward. But we need someone with imagination.”

Ariadne nodded. “You want me to make the dreamscapes.”

“This is some of the most important design work you could ever hope to accomplish. Design that will help people find comfort in their good associations and the strong parts of their mind. Design that will help them move past trauma and despair.”

Ariadne pocketed her totem. “Well, I guess I’m sold. You really know how to give a pitch.”

Lali clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh goody! Just you wait - this is only the start. I’ve got to run - but lets have you come to the lab soon, yeah? We can start planning.”

Lali rose and in a flurry of shaken hands and kissed cheeks she was hurrying out of the cafe and into the early London evening.

Ariadne watched her go and then sat back in her seat. She looked at Arthur. “I like her a lot.”

Arthur smirked. “Thought you would.”

***

That night, a Friday, Ariadne was scheduled to appear on a panel with a few other doctoral students. They were to talk about themselves and their studies for the benefit of the undergrads - get them excited for careers in academia. The organizers of the panel had asked her to discuss her early plans for her thesis on dream architecture and its effect on real world architecture. Upon arrival she found she had been placed between someone who studied ritual performance in Romania and a dress historian who focused on pre-industrial garment production. Several times throughout the evening, Ariadne wondered why she had been asked on the panel. All her life she had felt physically small - she had always been the runt in a group of children and in her adulthood she was still regularly mistaken for a minor. That feeling of “smallness” had lessened in recent years, but occasionally it would come back. As she listened to other PhD candidates discuss their work, she couldn’t help feeling like she didn’t measure up. Everyone else had either been published in a journal or seemed poised to cure bone cancer while Ariadne was in a field that was barely recognized. A lot of civilians had yet to experience dreamsharing and it was still barely legal in most countries. Many people derided it as a pleasure experience like tripping, condemned its relationship to the black market, and didn’t understand how necessary architects and designers were to the practice. It was enough to make her question if she had made the right choice by continuing with school.

When they reached the Q&A portion of the night, a timid first year asked Ariadne if she designed buildings in her regular dreams and if she then tried to make those designs in the real world.

“I do, yeah,” she answered honestly, some excitement coming back to her at the question, “My ‘real life’ dreams aren’t as sharp as induced dreams, so the designs I come up with are pretty abstract. I sleep with a sketchpad by my bed and every morning I wake up and try to draw as much as I can remember. I don’t own a PASIV myself, but when I can use one I like taking my sketches into the dreams and refining them - seeing if they could work as actual structures. That’s a big part of my studies really - exploring between dreams and being awake and seeing how they can all work together and support each other in creation.”

Ariadne was packing up her bag at the end of the panel when she felt someone behind her.

“It’s good to see you again, Little Muffin,” said a low, smooth voice.

She looked up and found Robert Fischer standing before her. She remembered what Clara had called her the other night and instantly reddened at his use of the nickname. He simply looked bemused. On top of that her fight or flight instinct was attempting to kick in and she began eyeing all of the viable exits.

“I saw a flyer for the talk tonight with your photo on it, and I remembered your face,” he clarified, “Is that weird? It’s just...I really do feel like we’ve met before.”

She took a breath and finished zipping up her bag. “Thank you for coming - but like I said, you must think I’m someone else.”

He took a step towards her. “In that case, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Robert Fischer.”

She gave him what she hoped was a warm smile and took his offered hand. “Ariadne Martin.”

“I really enjoyed hearing you talk about your work. I had my subconscious trained against extractions a few years ago, but I’ve never experienced dreamsharing like you describe. It sounds incredible.”

She looked at him properly then - he sounded so sincere. More than anyone, she wanted him to understand the beauty of it. Probably because of what they had done to him, and the residual guilt she felt. “It is incredible. It’s more than most people can imagine - but it shouldn’t be. It’s like VR, but better - because you can create the world. You think it and it becomes real.”

He had the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’d love to learn more. Have you written something I could read? Or maybe a website…?”

She shifted a little and then, almost against her own will, she asked, “Do you want to get a drink? I think they want to close the building.” She gestured to the now-empty lecture hall around them.

Fischer looked surprised at her offer. “Oh - sure. Yeah that would be great actually.”

She took him to a pub around the corner from the university. Even in his more relaxed clothing, he still looked out of place at a bar that catered mainly to college students. As they walked through he looked uneasy, like someone might recognize him. She looked back at him as they pushed past shouting eighteen-year-olds and she was surprised at how small he looked. In her memory of the inception job he had seemed so much taller - now he just looked like a regular guy.

They found a rickety table in the corner and she sat down. Robert remained standing but leaned toward her. “What would you like?,” he asked, pointing at the bar.

She started to get up. “Oh I can come with you.”

“No it’s okay,” he smiled, “You can get the next round.”

He bought every round - three in total. He kept insisting and she would eventually give in. At one point he brought a pair of sandwiches back with their pints of beer. “I thought you could use this,” he said as he placed one of the sandwiches in front of her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Why? Because I’m tiny and that means I’m a lightweight?”

He chuckled. “No - because there wasn’t any food at the talk and _I’m_ hungry so I thought you might also be hungry.”

He was more thoughtful than she ever would have assumed. Aside from the sandwich, he listened to her intently and kept the conversation flowing with excellent questions about what Somnacin was made out of and what companies manufactured PASIV devices. He looked at her sometimes like he was mesmerized by all the information she was giving him.

“You’re only in the second year of your PhD? You seem to have everything figured out.”

She felt her cheeks heat - though that could have been from the alcohol. “I’m really not so impressive - there are others who are far more accomplished than I am.”

Fischer's knee bumped against hers under the table, but before she could wonder if it was intentional he was leaning towards her with a gleam in his eyes, “Maybe - but you’re far more interesting.”

She looked away and took a sip of her beer to hide her grin.

It was late when they finally left the bar and made their way towards the Tube. “Can I see you again?,” he asked casually, but there was a hint of apprehension to his voice. The question sobered her in an instant. Was he asking her on a date? Even if he wasn’t, even if he just wanted to be friends, this was a far cry from what Arthur had meant when he told her ‘ _don’t do anything to draw his attention_.’

They stopped outside the doors of the station. “Um, sure,” she said brightly, “I’m always around campus so we’ll probably run into each other.”

He seemed to flinch for an instant, but then quickly straightened up. “True - well it was great talking with you.”

“You too.”

They shook hands and then parted ways. But on the train ride home, Ariadne couldn’t stop thinking of Fischer’s face when she had given her non-committal answer. There had been a second of disappointment, followed quickly by a steel mask that covered any momentary slip of weakness. She thought of how his hardened facade had crumbled in the dreamspace. She had only seen an inkling of it on the second level, but Eames had been the one to see the big moment when the inception took hold.

“It was beautiful really,” he had told Arthur and Ariadne in the bar of an LA hotel. All three had been unable to sleep after the job, euphoria and adrenaline still running through their veins. “I’ll remember it for the rest of my days.”

How many times had Robert Fischer had to hide his sadness and frustration behind cool detachment? She thought of Arthur saying how Fischer seemed to have a better life now, but was that really true? Was he just as lonely as he had always been?

Against her better judgement (and Arthur’s voice in her head), Ariadne opened her laptop when she got home and found Fischer’s staff email in the school directory.

**_To:_** _R.M.Fischer@westminster.ac.uk_

_**Subject:** Dreamscapes _

_Mr. Fischer,_

_Thanks again for coming to the panel!_

_While I don’t have anything published that you can read, I do have a blog where I post sketches and occasional notes: ariadnemartinmazes.tumblr.com_

_Best,_

_Ariadne Martin_

He sent a reply back while she was brushing her teeth.

**_To:_** _A.Martin2@westminster.ac.uk_

_**Subject:** Dreamscapes _

_Ariadne,_

_I had a great time tonight - I really liked talking with you. Excited to take a look at this._

_Also, you can call me Robert._

**Author's Note:**

> If this were a movie, Lali would be played by [Kirby Howell-Baptiste](https://www.zimbio.com/photos/Kirby+Howell-Baptiste/2019+Comic+Con+International+World+Premiere/i6Emb3sgkZY)


End file.
